


Shiny Things

by dessert_first



Category: due South
Genre: Ficlet, Humor, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2011-04-10
Updated: 2011-04-10
Packaged: 2017-10-17 20:21:58
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 629
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/180839
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/dessert_first/pseuds/dessert_first
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Posted last night to the thread for 's Shiny Things tag game.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Shiny Things

**Author's Note:**

  * For [slidellra (sli)](https://archiveofourown.org/users/sli/gifts).



"Ray--"

"I said shut up, Fraser!"

Fraser shuts up, but his lips press thin and his spine gets even straighter. Ray ignores him. Like he needs a passive-agressive Mountie on his ass right now.

"I merely suggested--"

"Shut. Up."

Fraser shuts up, but he's plenty noisy about it.

There's a rustle of fabric as he straightens his tunic, a shuffling noise as he shifts his stance, and the very faintest "hmph." Ray is tempted to call him on it, but it'll only lead to more grief, probably.

There's a restless grumble from the peanut gallery, but one cutting glare is enough to make Dief stick his nose in the air and stalk off in wolfy dignity. At least he does it quietly.

The Brontës are coming, Ray's sure of it, and this is his one chance. If he doesn't nail them now, it's so long Charlotte, Emily, and even the slutty one, Anne. Welsh will put him on suspension for sure if Ray can't prove he had legitimate cause to be tailing them, with their cagey little innocent shtick. He's got to catch them in the act, and he's got to do it now. The Brontës are dirty, and nobody believes it but Ray. He'll show them all, if he can just—

A cough from behind him. "Ray, if you would--"

\--get Fraser to *shut up* for a minute, Christ.

Wait, there's Heathcliffe coming round the corner with his usual swagger and his little dog. Ray ducks back further into the alley, a fistful of Fraser's tunic ensuring the Mountie's along for the ride.

Heathcliffe sits at the cafe, pats the high-strung little beast, and orders a half-caf, half-decaf skinny latte. Oh, he's dirty, all right.

The little dog sniffs suspiciously, then zeroes in on the alley Ray and Fraser are hiding in, whining and pulling on her leash. "Easy now, Fanny," Heathcliff says, patting her head absently. The waitress, a scrawny bottle blond (and Ray should know) wearing thick-framed glasses, hands him his coffee and a newspaper, and turns to leave, her long ponytail trailing behind her. It's tied back with a loop of her own thin braid, Ray notices, with colorful beads woven through. One of them looks like--he squints through his glasses and tugs on Fraser's tunic just as Fraser puts a hand on his jacket sleeve, urgently. "Charlotte!" they mouth at each other, and burst out of the alley.

"Chicago PD!" Ray yells, cornering Heathcliffe and his little dog, too. Hapless customers scream and drop their flatware and generally freak out.

Anne and Emily charge out of the kitchen with the semiautomatics Ray *knew* they'd been smuggling, and the handful of customers still left all scream and scatter. The thick envelope full of money falls with a thump from Heathcliff's folded newspaper as he dives for his dog, but the little mutt escapes and digs seriously sharp teeth into the ankle of one of Fraser's gleaming boots. She makes a ferocious growl that ends with a whimper as Dief, with his customary good timing, yanks her away. Fraser limps over to the barricade Charlotte has set up with a wrought-iron table and a canvas sun umbrella and looks at Ray pointedly. Ray's a little busy covering Anne and Emily, so he just yells out, "Yes, fine, you can talk now!" and Fraser's "Thank you kindly" segues smoothly into talking Charlotte out from behind her barricade.

"Gray hair, Fraser, is what you're giving me," Ray grumbles as he secures the Brontës, grateful he thought to bring the extra cuffs.

"Not all I'm giving you, I hope," Fraser murmurs, securing Heathcliff while Dief makes disgusting goo-goo eyes at Fanny.

"No," Ray admits, and doesn't even try to restrain his grin. "That's the least of it, Benton-buddy."


End file.
